This gentle ode to a teacher’s skill at inspiring, encouraging, and being a role model is spoken, presumably, from a child’s viewpoint. The beautifully simple pictures are a sweet, kid- and parent-appealing blend of comic-strip style and fine art the cast of children depicted is commendably multiethnic.Īlthough the love comes shining through, the text often confuses in straining for patterned simplicity.Ī paean to teachers and their surrogates everywhere.

Some of the wordplay, such as “more can than knot” and “more pause than fast-forward,” will tickle older readers with their accompanying, comical illustrations. The line reads: “I wish you more treasures than pockets.” Most children will feel the better wish would be that he had just the right amount of pockets for his treasures. Then there's a picture of a boy on a beach, his pockets bulging with driftwood and colorful shells, looking frustrated that his pockets won't hold the rest of his beachcombing treasures, which lie tantalizingly before him on the sand. His feet are visible, but it's not clear whether he's floating in the deep end or standing in the shallow. The line “I wish you more tippy-toes than deep” accompanies a picture of a boy happily swimming in a pool. It starts out simply enough: two children run pell-mell across an open field, one holding a high-flying kite with the line “I wish you more ups than downs.” But on subsequent pages, some of the analogous concepts are confusing or ambiguous. 4-8)Ī collection of parental wishes for a child. The paintings are done in creamy, earth-tone oils and augment the story nicely. Choi ( Earthquake, see below, etc.) draws from her own experience, interweaving several issues into this touching account and delicately addressing the challenges of assimilation. When the day arrives for Unhei to announce her chosen name, she discovers how much Joey has helped. One student, Joey, takes a particular liking to Unhei and sees the beauty in her special stamp. But I’ll let you know next week.” Her classmates write suggested names on slips of paper and place them in a jar. Lesson learned, she declines to tell her name to anyone else and instead offers, “Um, I haven’t picked one yet.

Unhei is ashamed when the children on the bus find her name difficult to pronounce and ridicule it. As she rides the school bus toward her first day of school, she remembers the farewell at the airport in Korea and examines the treasured gift her grandmother gave her: a small red pouch containing a wooden block on which Unhei’s name is carved. Unhei has just left her Korean homeland and come to America with her parents.

The name jar book